


patter

by theycallmeDernhelm (onyourleft084)



Series: and after all this time/i’m still into you [15]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale loves Crowley, Body Worship, Dominant Aziraphale, Foreplay, M/M, Patter, a sweet talking angel and a besotted demon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:27:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23137660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onyourleft084/pseuds/theycallmeDernhelm
Summary: “Will you indulge me, my dear? While I tell you how beautiful I think you are?”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: and after all this time/i’m still into you [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1515578
Comments: 10
Kudos: 138





	patter

“I want to take our time with this one,” says Aziraphale. He plants a kiss on Crowley’s mouth, soft, indulgent, and slides onto Crowley’s lap until he’s straddling him. This is how he asks for what he wants. This is how he gets it.

“Your little way of telling me I go too fast?” Crowley manages to say.

“Mm, not quite.” Aziraphale smiles warmly.

“Then what?”

“Will you indulge me, my dear? While I tell you how beautiful I think you are?” 

Crowley blushes furiously. Blood rushes to his face— well, not just to his face, as Aziraphale can already feel against Crowley’s tight pants. He settles for a sarcastic laugh. “Sure. Whatever.”

He lets the angel’s fingertips guide him with the softest nudges, the lightest of brushes; lets Aziraphale undress him, push the black Henley over his shoulders and head. Every touch of his hands is like worship, and Crowley shivers. It has been some time, nearly two months, after their first time, but it is their first time to do it like this— that is, deliciously slowly, one of them adoring the other, with the intention to make this last.

Aziraphale finally tosses the garment off, glad to be rid of anything that might get between him and his lover. “Oh, my dear,” he sighs again, running his hands up and down Crowley’s torso, “You are beautiful, you really are.” His lips press into the short ginger tufts of Crowley’s hair. “Hair like fire,” he murmurs, like an ancient invocation to some wild and reckless old god. Aziraphale kisses a track down Crowley’s forehead, cradling the back of his head in his hands, “Eyes like sunlight.” He kisses his eyelids, both of them. Then he kisses Crowley’s lips again.

“Lips like honey.” Aziraphale grins against the corner of Crowley’s mouth, giving him just enough time to gather himself before the angel unravels him again.

“Ssshut it,” hisses Crowley, despite himself. Aziraphale has no interest in heeding him. With the tips of his fingers he prods Crowley gently on his collarbone, and Crowley succumbs to his touch without a word. He lets his head roll back, his spine uncurl on the mattress beneath them as Aziraphale guides him onto his back. And then Aziraphale’s lips are on him again, kissing into the tender and hollow parts of Crowley’s neck, taking their time on the soft peaks of his chest.

“Oh— stardust on your skin,” the angel almost exclaims. “Diamond in your bones. The strongest person I know.”

“There’s only one _bone_ in my body I can think of right now,” Crowley says, through gritted teeth, and it makes Aziraphale laugh. Even his breath is warm and seductive against Crowley’s face.

“Ah, ah. Patience, my love.”

“Made me wait long enough—“

“Not nearly. I haven’t yet run out of words to sing your praises.” More kisses against the pale, freckled surface of Crowley’s abdomen, “You take my breath away with every kiss. You steal my heart with every smile. To think that I could ever deserve to hold something so precious—“

“You don’t have to breathe,” Crowley points out.

“And yet you manage to take my breath away.” A gentle swat on the side of Crowley’s leg. “Don’t interrupt me. There is so much more of you to lavish sweetness on. My wicked, wily, wondrous serpent who always asks so many questions.” He gathers one of Crowley’s hands close, kisses the palm of it gently, “And made so many stars.”

“You remember I told you that?” says Crowley in a small voice.

“Of course I do. You know, back when we weren’t together, barely even friends—“ Aziraphale settles down so they’re lying belly-to-belly, lacing his fingers over Crowley’s chest to languidly rest his chin on, “I tried to soak up everything you told me about yourself, every little thing as it came out. Bit by bit. And I remembered it all.”

“Why’s that?” Crowley’s voice is still small, as if he can hardly believe it.

“You intrigued me,” says Aziraphale. “But you also revealed so many beautiful things. Someone tells you they built entire constellations, you could never forget that.” He traces along Crowley’s collarbone with one fingertip, “And I found that I loved everything about you. But we were on opposite sides, and I was so scared of ever breaking your trust.”

“It wasn’t hard to trust you,” murmurs Crowley. “I knew I shouldn’t. But I did anyway.” His hand reaches up to rub the back of Aziraphale’s neck, drawing him closer so their foreheads touch.

“You were always so brave with that, with us. How could you know for sure?” 

“How could I know?” Crowley blinks those golden eyes at him. “Aziraphale, you treated me like I wasn’t just a snake. You saw things in me— I don’t know what you saw, I still have no idea how you can just lay me down and say s-so many sweet things about me. But you did and you do and it’s why I’ve always loved you.”

“I always wanted the privilege of knowing the most about you. In a way, I suppose, it made you mine.”

“It worked.” Crowley’s voice is hoarse, perhaps because Aziraphale has started kissing his throat again. “I’m yours. Yours now. Think I— ngk— think I was from the beginning.” He writhes under Aziraphale’s touch. “Should have known since Eden— that I’d end up belonging to you— us, belonging to each other. Angel, fuck’s sake,” he adds impatiently, as Aziraphale’s hands roam all over him, “can you— I dunno, take off your clothes for once—“

Aziraphale chuckles, “Oh, Crowley, love, haven’t I made it clear? Tonight isn’t about me. It’s about you, and me praising every inch of you.”

“Well, certain inches of me can’t bloody stand it anymore,” Crowley grits out. “Do something or I’ll— I’m never going talk to you again.”

He watches the angel’s mouth drop open, feigning shock. “Using my words against me?”

“If it’ll get you to fucking listen—“

“All right. All right, then.” Aziraphale concedes, a smug smile, shifts his position on top of Crowley, “We’ve used rather many words this evening, haven’t we, darling? It’s hardly fair of me to make you wait any longer, but I can’t help but wax lyrical when I talk about you, ravishing and splendrous and magnificent and so very, very sexy—“

Patter, Crowley realises almost too late. Magicians often use dialogue to distract their audience from what their hands are really doing. And in this case it works, as Aziraphale takes advantage of the demon’s attention on his voice to reach down the front of his jeans and take him very firmly in hand, indeed.

“Ngk!”

“Shh,” soothes Aziraphale, “don’t complain, now. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Crowley’s hands clutch at the angel’s hips desperately. “Go on, then.” Of all the magic show techniques Aziraphale could have perfected—

The corner of Aziraphale’s mouth curls into an incredibly bastardous smirk. He’s relishing being in control. “I’m going to need you to say another word for me. A magic word. You know what it is, don’t you? I won’t do anything until I hear it.”

“Fuck’s sake,” says Crowley again. He rolls his eyes in aggravation, “Please.”

“One more time,” Aziraphale instructs, “with feeling.”

“Please, Angel.”

A satisfied exhale. “That’s better.”

And he leans in and takes Crowley and the demon writhes underneath him, a whining mess, as Aziraphale starts again from the top. “Hair like fire. Eyes like sunlight. Lips like honey.”

He’ll repeat himself for as long as he has to. Until Crowley believes. Until one day Crowley can see what Aziraphale has always seen in him, ever since the Beginning.


End file.
